


elysium fields

by amemorymaze



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, BadBoy!Blaine, Character Death, M/M, Not Kurt or Blaine, Swearing, Violence, a hell of a lot of angst if i'm honest, because it would be so so different if they grew up in chicago, genderfluid!kurt, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:31:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amemorymaze/pseuds/amemorymaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>All Blaine can feel is Kurt’s lips and his hands as if they’re on every inch of his body - the skin on skin contact sizzling with electricity. He doesn’t think about what it means or what’s going to happen afterwards, he loses himself in the moment as Kurt kisses the corner of his lips and trails a series of kisses across his jaw and down his neck. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>And Blaine knows that he could live in this moment forever with Kurt’s lips on his body - their skin touching as sparks fly. He could live away from reality and away from things that matter because he has Kurt with him and that’s all that matters to Blaine. </i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(or; blaine doesn't know how to cope with loss and kurt doesn't really know how to help, but they try their best to make it through.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	elysium fields

**Author's Note:**

> this has literally been in my drafts for months and months and months and i'm finally posting it now!! yay! enjoy, don't cry too much. heed the warnings, it's sad.

**one day.**

The street is dimly lit with the odd (broken) streetlamp lighting the pathway and moonlight casting a light on a figure walking down the street.

A leather jacket slung over his shoulders and a shard of broken glass still clutched in his shaking hand. His knuckles are all scraped and yellowing along with his left eye which is covered with a scattering of bruises; looking puffy and swollen.

He breathes out into the cool air, his breath swirling in front of his face as he grimaces at each step, a sharp pain shooting through his stomach. There’s a dangerous glint in his eye and a small smile turning up the corners of his lips because he’s _proud_.

And even though he’s about to step through the threshold of his house to his mother’s anxious face and his father’s angry eyes, he walks down the road ignoring the pain with his head held high and his shoulders wide.

Despite all the trouble he’s managed to get himself into, he knows that this time he did it for the right reasons.

 

 

 

It starts in a graveyard when the bright light of the morning sun is shining down on the small crowd of people. There’s a misty dew on the grass, causing black shoes to be stained with water as cheeks are wet with tears.

Blaine stands there, arms crossed as he refuses to let the tears gather and refuses to let them fall. He can be strong; he is strong.

He looks up at the sky and takes a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with the family and his family. Shrugging off his mom’s comforting hand, he walks away. Away from the pain and grief and away from _him_ ; from his best friend.

He pulls the blazer off his shoulder and loosens the tie, trying to breathe as he throws the blazer on the bench next to him, not too far from the ceremony. The bench is hard and cold, hidden in the shadows of the hedge behind, and Blaine holds onto it; onto the coldness of the morning air and the uncomfortable wood underneath him as he tells himself that this is all real. He can’t live in this dreamlike state anymore - he can’t live feeling like nothing is real.

Blaine sits there and puts his head in his hands, his throat tightening and his breath labouring.

There’s a movement next to him and there’s a weight on the other end of the bench and Blaine looks up. Sitting in the bright sunlight is a boy whose eyes are puffy with tear tracks down his cheeks. He takes his suit jacket off; the shirt underneath hugging his body and Blaine’s breath hitches.

“Depressing, huh?” The boy says.

“Well,” Blaine says, choking out a humourless laugh, “It is a funeral.”

“I’m Kurt,” the boy says, holding out his hand.

“Blaine,” he replies, grasping the hand quickly before releasing it - still feeling Kurt’s touch on his hand.

Resting his hand on the bench, he scratches at it with his nails and looks down at the ground.

All of a sudden there’s a hand covering his, stopping the movement and Blaine’s gaze shoots up. Bright blue eyes are staring into his as Kurt bites at his lip, his breath hitching.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kurt says, his lips turned down, “You’ll be okay.”

Blaine holds his breath as he stares into Kurt’s eyes, “But how do you even know that?”

Kurt shrugs, “Because it can’t get much lower than this, right?”

“I assure you,” Blaine replies, snatching his hand away from underneath Kurt’s as he expression hardens and his eyes glint with darkness; “It can.”

He stands up quickly still in the shadows as Kurt sits, stunned in the bright light and Blaine walks away. He walks back towards the mass of people in black, mourning over their son, brother and friend.

He catches his mom’s eye and he nods quickly as he steps past her and bends down to pick up a handful of dirt and earth.

Looking down into the grave, he sees the golden plaque engraving the name. He sees his best friend down there for the very last time. He closes his eyes for a moment before he takes one step forward and throws it into the grave.

The plaque is covered with specs of dirt, no longer allowing the light to reflect off of it.

So Blaine turns away and runs, runs past the church and out of the graveyard. He runs until he can’t breathe anymore; gasping for breath and his side hurting with a pain he can barely feel.

He sits on the side of an abandoned road, taking deep, gasping breaths as the tears finally fall. He cries until his vision is blurred and his head feels foggy - letting his hurt and grief break through the cracks.

He stays until the sun goes down and the sky falls dark. Rubbing his eyes - clearing them of the tears - he gets up and walks home.

 

+

 

And when he finally gets home he ignores his parents and goes straight up to his room to find his blazer laying on his bed. He picks it up and throws his across the room. It hits the wall with a soft thud.

Blaine furrows his eyebrows as he sees something fall out of the pocket and as he walks closer he sees a ring; a ring he’s seen almost everyday for the past two years.

Alongside it is a piece of paper with a number and writing on it, and as Blaine twists the ring in his fingers, it’s the first time he’s smiled since that night.

The note flutters to the floor as Blaine threads the ring onto the chain around his neck.

 

_Sebastian would’ve wanted you to have this._

_-Kurt._

_(872-568-9726)_

 

 

 

**then.**

There was a summer back when he was sixteen, filled with chain-smoking, fights and black eyes as they prowl the city in the dark during the warm summer nights.

It’s the summer of his first kiss and his first joint, the summer his parents became wary and his brother misunderstood him.

It’s the summer he meets Sebastian Smythe.

He’s walking out of his last physical therapy session, broken bones healed and bruises gone with the only evidence left being the scar on the inside of his elbow.

As he scuffs his shoes against the concrete floor, waiting for Cooper to pick him up he spots a boy leaning against the wall behind him, cigarette dangling from his mouth he catches Blaine’s gaze and smirks.

“So,” the boys says as he saunters towards Blaine, “What’s a guy like you doing here?”

Blaine shrugs, “Recovering.”

“Huh,” the boy says, throwing the end of his cigarette on the floor, “And what have you even got to recover from?”

Blaine’s gaze drops and his shoulders hunch as he grabs his elbow, running his fingers along the scar, “Got attacked.”

The boy’s eyes widen in realisation, “Wait, you’re that kid that got beat up a few months ago? I knew I recognised your face from somewhere!”

Blaine shrugs, looking up at the boy in front of him; “Yeah.”

“Let me just tell you something,” the boy says, staring into Blaine’s eyes, “Don’t let them push you around.”

Before Blaine can reply, Cooper pulls up and Blaine has to leave. But before he turns away, the boy holds his hand out to shake, “Sebastian Smythe.”

And as Blaine takes the hand, he feels a slip of paper there and Blaine smiles, “Blaine Anderson.”

“Well, Blaine Anderson,” Sebastian says; “See you around, stud.”

And as Blaine’s getting into the car he turns around, ignoring Cooper’s questions, looking for the boy with the cigarette but he’s gone.

 

 

 

 

His parents won’t let him out of the house; will barely let him leave their sight. Cooper drives him to school and his mom picks him up, his dad jams his bedroom window so that it won’t open more than an inch.

They’re serious this time and he knows why; his best friend died. That still doesn’t mean he has to like it. So he spends most of his time laying on his bed, fiddling with the ring around his neck and ignoring reality.

School is hell, worse than it was before. But Blaine still goes in with his head held high as he ignores the whispers and dirty looks. He just puts his headphones on and his hood over his head as he drowns out the people around him.

He ignores the messages spray painted on his locker and the notes that are posted through the vents. And maybe six month ago, he may have been sitting on Sebastian’s bed as they plotted ways to get revenge on their classmates. But now, he can say that he honestly doesn't care. He leaves the messages there for all to see when they walk past until the janitor cleans it off.

Blaine still goes to class and sits at the back of the room, scrawling the occasional note and drawing doodles in the margins of his paper. He leaves the room as soon as he hears the first bell ring and before the teacher gets a chance to give him a pitying look as he scurries out of the classroom.

Currently, it’s day number twelve of his ‘so-called’ house arrest and he’s sick of it.

 

 

 

That summer is the first time he says it out loud. Sitting in the treehouse at the end of Sebastian’s garden as they pass a bottle of tequila between them. Blaine wincing every time the liquid passes down his throat and Sebastian leaning against the wooden wall, cigarette in hand as his foot taps to an unknown rhythm.

“I’m gay,” Blaine chokes out, the liquid confidence dying a little as he anticipates Sebastian’s reaction.

He jumps in surprise as Sebastian lets out a shout of loud, barking laughter; “Of course you are.”

“What?”

“You think I didn’t know?” Sebastian says, plucking the bottle from between Blaine’s knees and taking a swig.

“I - uh,” Blaine stutters, his hands beginning to shake. “I’ve never told anyone before.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t see the way you look at other guys.” He pauses for a moment, a small smile appearing on the corners of his lips in a smirk; “At me.”

A blush creeps it’s way up Blaine’s neck and spread across his cheeks and he avoids looking at Sebastian in the eyes.

“Blaine,” Sebastian says, leaning closer to Blaine and cupping Blaine’s jaw to get his attention, grasping his gaze; “I’m gay too.”

Blaine blinks too fast and breathes out a sigh of relief, “Oh.”

Sebastian sits back and the heat from his hand is gone and Blaine almost gasps out loud; “It doesn’t matter,” Sebastian says and all Blaine can think is: _it does - it matters to me._ But then Sebastian is talking; “It doesn’t matter to me.”

And Blaine lets out a breath and takes the offered tequila from Sebastian’s hand.

The liquid still burns his throat and makes his head spin but he’s smiling because it’s going to be okay.

 

 

 

Sleepless nights are something Blaine’s become accustomed to over the last few weeks; tossing and turning in his bed, unable (unwilling) to slip away into unconsciousness. Every time he closes his eyes all he can see is _that_ night - hidden in the shadows and only able to hear the moans and grunts of pain from behind. All he can picture is the way the body looked on the floor afterwards - the way it was twisted and _wrong._

Some nights he just wants to curl up and pretend nothing happened - pretend that his best friend is still alive and that he’ll see him in the morning.

Other nights there’s anger piercing his veins, rushing through his body and he wants to scream. He wants to run after those guys and punch them until they stop moving.

Tonight, he finds that slip of paper from the funeral two weeks ago and finds himself typing the number into his phone.

_You awake?_ He texts.

And it’s barely minutes later that he gets a reply; _Depends who’s asking._

_‘Blaine from the funeral._

His phone starts buzzing in his hand with an incoming call and he accepts it immediately. As soon as the line has connected, Kurt starts talking; “Well, Blaine from the funeral, I’m all yours.”

A small smile graces Blaine’s face - the first in weeks.

 

 

 

**then.**

Smoking is a thing Blaine apparently does now. Well, not cigarettes but joints - weed. He likes the way it makes him feel - the way it makes him feel light and in his own bubble. He likes the way that when he walks he feels like he’s floating three inches off the ground and when he kisses a boy it’s all bright sparks and feeling everything everywhere.

The first time he does it is that summer under the canopy of trees at the back of his local park with Sebastian. They lay on the ground, staring up at the sky as the smoke hits the back of their throats and their minds go fuzzy.

Blaine doesn’t really remember much of that afternoon, just remembers the feeling of wanting to fly and the way Sebastian’s touch on his skin sparked and sizzled.

He remembers laughing until he couldn’t breathe and feeling like a teenager and not a grown-up like everyone expected of him.

He remembers looking over at Sebastian - his best friend - and laughed because, _wow, faces are funny, aren’t they?_

It was the happiest he had been in a long, _long_ time.

 

 

 

The first time it happens, Blaine doesn’t expect it. He’s laying on his bed with a comic in his hands; trying to focus on the pictures and words in front of him (he can’t), when there’s a persistent knocking on the door.

He rolls out of bed and tramples down the stairs, his heavy footfalls loud. The swings the front door open and stares in surprise; “Kurt?”

Kurt tilts his head with a small smile on his face. “Surprise?”

“What are you doing here?”

Kurt laughs, “I thought you might like some company and since you’re not allowed to leave your house, I decided to visit you.”

“Just because we’ve spoken like two times,” Blaine says, stepping back to allow Kurt into the hallway; “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“Uh huh,” Kurt replies, obviously ignoring Blaine as he looks around Blaine’s house. “You wanna invite me to your room or something, then?”

“No,” Blaine says, his voice harsh and Kurt blinks up at him. “Let’s go outside instead.”

“It’s freezing, Blaine.”

“Well put your coat on,” Blaine replies with a shrug.

They sit on the porch steps in the cold air, Blaine ignores the shivers that run through his body and just stares out in front of him, at the green grass and tall, looming trees in the garden.

“Home alone?” Kurt asks, looking over his shoulder at Blaine; “I didn’t think that was allowed.”

“They all have their own lives.”

Kurt shrugs, resting his cheek on his knees where they’re drawn up in front of his body and wraps his arms around them. “I thought you would’ve at least tried to sneak out.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Kurt says, “I don’t know about you, but if I were you, I’d be sick of that house.”

“I am,” Blaine says, not taking his eyes away from the garden in front of him.

Kurt’s silent for a moment before launching into a story from his day at school with his glee club (which Blaine tries to suppress a laugh at and just ends up getting a glare from Kurt) and Blaine listens and loses himself in Kurt’s melodic voice.

 

+

 

The second time Blaine sees Kurt, he’s expecting it. He sits in a small coffee shop barely five minutes from his house (his dad dropped him off) with a medium drip in front of him as he twirls a small black phone (that isn’t his) between his fingers.

Blaine tries once again, to type a passcode into the phone but as soon as he presses the enter button he sees the same message he’s been seeing for the past three days ever since he found the phone tucked underneath his mattress; _INVALID._

He hears the clicking of heels again the wooden floor come close so he shoves the phone into his pocket.

He looks up, acting nonchalant and his eyes grow wide. In front of him is Kurt - wearing a flowing black dress, down to his knees and black heeled boots on his feet. He wears a long cream cardigan, his (her?) hands covered by the sleeves and Blaine can almost make out the way they’re shaking. He looks up into Kurt’s eyes to find a nervous smile tugging at his lipstick covered lips and black streaked eyes.

“Hello,” Kurt says and Blaine doesn’t know if it’s just because of the outfit, but Kurt founds more feminine - his voice at a higher pitch.

“Kurt?” Blaine replies, confusion in his voice. “You - are you um, are you still Kurt? ”

Kurt lets out a breath of air – relief, Blaine thinks - and sits down in the chair opposite Blaine, legs crossed and back straight, “Yeah, I am.”

They’re silent for a few minutes and Blaine’s eyes rake over Kurt’s outfit again and his mind reels.

“I -” Kurt begins, licking his lips; “I’m a she,” and Kurt crosses her legs and fiddles with her fingers in her lap. “Today, I am, anyway.”

And, _oh._ Blaine suddenly gets it. It’s like a sudden click of realisation and Blaine understands, his eyes lighten slightly and Kurt visibly relaxes in her seat as she takes a sip of her coffee - her painted nails shining in the light.

And they talk and it’s like normal - it’s everything it usually is. Blaine watches under his dark hooded eyes the way that she holds her body differently and how she talks higher and all signs of nervousness have gone from her body. He wonders how she does this - how she _chooses_ to do this - and wonders how on earth someone can hold so much courage.

 

 

 

**then.**

Being friends with Sebastian is new territory for Blaine. He’s not used to the way that he’ll get a call and ten minutes later he’ll have company in his too small bedroom.

He’s not used to the way that he has someone to call when he’s had a bad day – or even a good day.

He’s not used to the feeling of trust – of feeling like there’s someone there.

He’s also not used to the feeling of having that trust broken.

 

 

 

**now.**

He’s walking down the street when it happens; his hands stuffed in the pockets of his skinny, black, ripped jeans.

He hears them first, spins around with his eyes narrowing as they race closer.

“Hey, it’s Anderson!” He hears and he turns back around, ignoring them as they come closer.

He ignores the way they pat him on the back and circle him instantly. His hackles are rising, knowing he can’t just shake them off.

“What do you want, Max?” He says gruffly, his voice hard.

The boys cackle; “Poor Anderson, all alone.”

“Fuck off,” Blaine replies, trying to move out of their little group.

“Not so fast,” the ring leader says, “Just wanted to see how you were coping without your pal, Smythe.”

Blaine’s heart drops in his chest and a fire dances behind his hardening eyes and his posture straightens. “Don’t.” And his voice is rough - dangerous.

“Oh, look at that, Anderson’s getting all defensive.” Blaine ignores him, tries to break free of the little circle they’ve created but they don’t let him. “He wasn’t who you thought he was, you know that, right?”

Blaine stands stock still, barely moving; barely breathing.

“He was an asshole,” the boy spits, “Nasty piece of work.”

It’s like a switch flips and Blaine turns around, his hands curled into fists but before he manages to throw a punch, there’s knuckles colliding with his face; “That’s for Smythe,” Max says, his black hair flopping down onto his forehead as a smile of grim satisfaction covers his face.

Blaine takes a deep breath, ignoring the stinging around his eye and the wetness dripping down and slams a fist into the ’s neck and pushes his knee into his groin with surprising strength for such a small body. Max goes down with a thud, struggling for breath and Blaine takes the chance - takes that gap and runs.

He’s not an idiot, getting into a fight that’s seven versus one isn’t a good idea; ’ _Pick your fights carefully,_ Blaine remembers Sebastian telling him. He remembers him telling him that not everything is worth the risk and Blaine decides that this isn’t.

So he runs. The boys start to chase him but he knows these streets better than them - he knows the hiding spaces and the shortcuts. He knows where they expect him to go and where they don’t. It’s not long before he loses them and he ends up in front of that coffee shop where he was supposed to be meeting Kurt and - fuck. He is _so_ screwed.

He catches his breath as Kurt rushes towards him - worry in his eyes; “What happened?”

“You don’t want to know,” Blaine says, gasping for breath.

“You’re bleeding,” Kurt says, grabbing Blaine’s chin and lifting it up so he can expect the gash. “Don’t you dare - don’t you dare tell me it’s nothing. You got into a fight!”

Blaine pulls away from Kurt, avoids his gaze as he takes a step backwards - away from Kurt; “I don’t need your help.”

Kurt’s eyes harden. “I didn’t offer it.” Blaine frowns, turning away from Kurt and walking back down the street, shoulders hunched as he ignored the pain blossoming through his face. “How are you going to explain it to your parents?” Kurt shouts causing Blaine to stop in his tracks.

“I thought you weren’t going to offer help,” Blaine grumbles, scuffing his feet on the floor.

“I’m not,” Kurt replies, catching up to him; “But I really would like to see you again and that’s not going to happen if you go home looking like that on your own. It’s purely selfish.”

A small smile fights it way to the corners of Blaine’s lips as they head towards Kurt’s car.

 

+

 

His parents walk in just as Kurt’s finished cleaning the blood from under his eye - the cut still visible, a stark contrast again his skin.

“What the hell did you do?” His dad says the same time his mom asks; “What happened?”

Before Blaine can even raise his shoulders in defence, Kurt’s talking, “It was my fault.”

“Kurt-”

“Well, not really, but we ran into some guys from school on the street and they starting saying things, um, to me,” Kurt looks up at Blaine’s parents, eyes wide, “He was defending me.”

They both sigh simultaneously and roll their eyes, “You’ve got to stop this, Blaine.”

“I know,” Blaine replies.

“We’re serious.”

“I know.”

Blaine’s mom steps closer, gently touching his face as she inspects the wound, “You won’t need stitches, just take some painkillers and you’ll be okay.”

She sighs, watching with a sad smile as Kurt drags Blaine up the stairs.

As soon as they enter Blaine’s room, Kurt places his bag next to the bed because sitting down, lounging gracefully over the covers.

Blaine slams the door shut - the force of it rattling the handles.  He paces the room backwards and forwards, ringing his hands together and muttering under his breath. “They don’t fucking understand,” he says and Kurt just watches without replying as Blaine continues; “Everything is always my fucking fault -”

And Kurt lounges back on the bed, resting on his elbows as he waits for Blaine’s anger to fizzle out and die - for the fire to burn out. “They don’t trust me, never have really. Don’t really blame them either.”

Blaine lets out a sigh and spins around before collapsing on the floor next to Kurt, resting his back against the bed frame.

“Okay?” Kurt asks; “Are you done?”

Blaine rolls his eyes and tries not to let the smile overtake his face; “Yeah.”

“Okay, good,” Kurt says, before reaching forward and grabbing his bag from the floor; “Let me paint your nails.”

“What?” 

“You heard me, get up here.” Blaine furrows his eyebrows before lifting himself from the floor and jumping up onto his bed next to Kurt; “I’ll even paint them black - make you look badass.”

And Blaine lets out a bark of laughter, “I don’t think any sort of nail polish is going to make me look ‘badass’, Kurt.”

“Sure it will,” Kurt says, pulling Blaine’s hands towards him, placing them on his thigh before unscrewing the bottle; “It’ll give you a no-fuck attitude.”

“I’m pretty sure I already give off that attitude but okay.”

He watches as Kurt balances the small bottle on his other leg and stares down in concentration as he begins to paint Blaine’s nails black. He watches the way Kurt’s tongue sticks out slightly and his eyes are so focused on what he’s doing and Blaine feels a soft smile spreading across his cheeks.

 

+

 

He wakes in a cold sweat, his clammy hands shaking and his breath laboured. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to block the images from his mind - tries to forget that they’re there, tells himself that they’re not real.

But in some sense, they are. The way that he was being thrown around by a group of men, pushing and punching, kicking and shoving. Blood streaming down his face and a growing ache in his stomach and-

_No._ He grabs his hair in his hair and tries to breathe as he sits on his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest.

He grabs his phone from his bedside table once the shaking has slowed and once he’s started to catch his breath and dials.

“Kurt?” He breathes.

“Mmm?” is the groggy reply and then; “Blaine?”

“Meet me,” Blaine says, “Please.”

“Where?”

 

+

 

The stars shine bright in the sky as Blaine sits on the swing; rocking himself backwards and forwards ever so slightly as he lets the cold air wash over his sweat-slick skin.

He watches the sky and the darkness above - the way it’s so still and barely moving. The way it makes the world feel so small and makes him feel infinitely smaller.

“Blaine?” He hears and he gets up off of the swing and moves forward, towards the figure ahead and leaves the seat behind him, creaking in the silence of the night. “Are you okay?”

Blaine sits there, waiting for Kurt to sit next to him as the trees rustle around him and there’s the crunch of the leaves and twigs underneath Kurt’s feet.

“Distract me.”

Kurt’s silent for a few moments, before he speaks - his voice filled with a quiet curiosity; “Why do you never ask me about my gender?”

And Blaine looks over at Kurt, a fire burning behind his hazel eyes, his stare intense and so _dangerous_ but Kurt doesn’t look away as he speaks. “If you tell me your secrets, I gotta tell you mine.”

And in the middle of a park at midnight Kurt catches Blaine’s lips in a soft kiss; touching briefly before moving together with an electricity pulsing through their bodies - fitting together like a puzzle piece. Kurt just kisses Blaine, right there, out in the open and under the stars.

But all too quickly, Kurt pulls away and Blaine finds himself leaning in for more; “Is this a big enough distraction?”

Blaine just smiles before pulling Kurt back towards him and in for another kiss, this time they pull each other closer. They grip at each other, Blaine’s hands on Kurt’s waist with one slipping under his shirt and Kurt’s on Blaine’s face, cupping his jaw. He pulls Blaine’s lips closer as Blaine bites on Kurt’s bottom lip, sliding his tongue into Kurt’s mouth - battling for dominance.

He forgets everything, because all his senses are invaded by Kurt and Blaine finds he doesn’t mind - doesn’t mind at all. He would much rather stay in this moment forever, with Kurt, than face real life.

So he drags his teeth along Kurt’s lip, drawing a moan from his throat before pushing closer - deeper.

All Blaine can feel is Kurt’s lips and his hands as if they’re on every inch of his body - the skin on skin contact sizzling with electricity. He doesn’t think about what it means or what’s going to happen afterwards, he loses himself in the moment as Kurt kisses the corner of his lips and trails a series of kisses across his jaw and down his neck.

And Blaine knows that he could live in this moment forever with Kurt’s lips on his body - their skin touching as sparks fly. He could live away from reality and away from things that _matter_ because he has Kurt with him and that’s all that matters to Blaine.

 

+

 

There’s the click of heels on the concrete path along with a high melodic voice, talking about everything and nothing; about school and glee club, singing and going to college.

Blaine listens as he always does and he’d never admit it, but he loves listening to Kurt - to his stories and his life because it’s so very different to his own.

All of a sudden there’s two guys barging their way between the two, pushing them apart and Blaine’s defenses right immediately.

“Freak,” they spit at Kurt and she recoils immediately.

“Fuck off,” Blaine says, stepping closer to Kurt, grabbing her waist and pulling her closer - protectively.

“Blaine,” Kurt says, brushing off her dress, “It’s okay.”

The two boys step closer, trying to be threatening, “You’re that he/she,” the boys laugh, “What a fuckin’ weirdo.”

“What the fuck did you say? Do you wanna say it again, huh?”

“Yeah,” one of the guys steps up into Blaine’s face, “He’s a fuckin’ freak.”

“Don’t make me hurt you,” Blaine says, his voice getting dangerously low and Kurt steps closer, knowing that expression; “Stop hasslin’ my girl.”

“Your girl,” the guy laughs, turning to his friend as he mocks Blaine, “It ain’t a fuckin’ girl.”

He turns back, faces Kurt who’s eyes are hard, refusing to let tears gather as she curls her hand into a fist and throws in in the boys face.

There’s a moment of silence where the three boys stare at Kurt before one lunges at Kurt who jumps backward as Blaine’s fist collides with his chest. But before Blaine can get another punch in, Kurt’s grabbing his hand and hauling him backwards.

Stumbling slightly before regaining his balance he lets Kurt lead them down the road, her heels clacking against the sidewalk as they both breathe heavily.

Blaine pulls Kurt into an alleyway and they watch as the two guys run straight past them. It’s silent for a few minutes as they catch their breath before Kurt starts laughing.

“Oh,” Kurt laughs, “I just punched someone in the face.”

“Yeah you did,” Blaine says, looking at Kurt with awe written all over his face. He watches as Kurt flexes her hand and reminds himself to get her to ice it when they’re home.

Kurt’s laughs die down and she looks up at Blaine, a smile tugging at her lips; “Your girl, huh?”

Blaine can’t help but smile, even if it’s only small, before pulling her into a bruising, frantic kiss, their lips moving in tandem, Blaine trying to get as close to her as he can. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers as he brushes a strand of hair off of her face; “The one and only.”

 

 

 

**now.**

He’s standing outside the school building, waiting for Cooper as he usually does. Wind is blowing in his face, sending shivers down his arms - his leather jacket slung over his shoulder along with his backpack.

Just as Cooper pulls up, he hears a commotion outside of the gate and looks over.

There, between the gaps in the fence, Blaine spots a familiar face. His blood boils in his veins and he doesn’t think rationally - all he can think is that he needs revenge.

Dropping his bag and jacket on the floor with a thud, he runs.

“Hey!” He yells as soon as their within earshot and Johnson - that familiar face - turns around, a smug laugh on his lips. As soon as he turns, Blaine throwing a fist in his face and he hears something crack.

There’s blood pouring from his face and everyone around stares and watches - most of the student body who are pouring from the school gates and parents a like just stop.

“Anderson,” Johnson growls, wiping the blood from his face before grabbing Blaine’s t-shirt and shoves him up against the chain link fence behind them. The metal rattles loudly and Blaine just laughs.

“What are you gonna do?” Blaine says, a fake laugh laced in his tone; “Kill me?” Johnson grips Blaine tighter as if daring Blaine to say more. “You gonna do to me what you did to Sebastian, huh?”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Anderson.”

“Fuck you,” Blaine says, just before throwing his knee up - kicking Johnson in the crotch and earning a loud groan. The grip on Blaine’s shirt loosens and he slides away, out of Johnson’s hands, before throwing another punch.

Blaine ignores the shouts of his name, just loses himself in his anger - anger that has been sitting still for months, ever since _that night._

Johnson finally manages to get a punch in, getting Blaine’s ribs and he knows it’s going to bruise - going to form a mass of purple imperfections on his skin but he doesn’t care.

“You going to beat me up, too?” Blaine gasps, shrugging off the hands that are grabbing at his back; “You gonna punch and kick me until I can’t breathe? Until I _stop_ breathing?”

The hands grab his waist, pulling his backward and he struggles - trying to kick his way out of the grip; “You’re a fuckin’ _murderer_ , Johnson!”

His breathing is heavy and he watches under heavy eyes as the boys run - get out of there before they get into even more trouble, before people start to question Blaine’s accusations. Blaine goes limp as they turn their backs on him, let’s his brothers arm pull him away.

He jumps into the car as soon as they’re next to it and slumps in his seat. He feels like he can’t breathe - like that was all a dream. But as soon as he feels Cooper’s hand on his shoulder he shakes out of it violently - recoils from the touch and tries to ignore the look of hurt crossing Cooper’s face.

The engine turns on, a gentle vibration underneath them and Blaine stares out of the window, trying to catch his breath and ignore the way that his chest is tingling with pain.

“I thought you weren’t there, Blaine.”

Blaine ignores him, turns his head away.

“You promised us.”

“And Sebastian promised me he wouldn’t leave me but he didn’t keep that promise.”

“Blaine…”

“Don’t,” Blaine says, crossing his arms over his chest; “Just don’t, Cooper.”

“Okay,” Cooper says, his voice quiet. “Okay.”

 

+

 

There’s a loud knock on his door and Blaine jumps off of his bed - his chest twinging in pain - and throws his bedroom door open; “Fuck off.”

But when he looks up, he sees Kurt standing there, heeled boots making her legs look even longer - clad in skinny purple jeans and a cream blouse with a necklace hanging from her neck. “Excuse me?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Cooper called me.”

Blaine rolls his eyes; “Why are you here?”

Kurt sighs before pushing his way into Blaine’s room and sitting on the edge of his bed, “We both know that you know the answer to that question.”

Kurt sits with his head in his hands on Blaine’s bed and Blaine slams the door shut.

“What?” Blaine says with a harsh tone to his voice.

“You,” Kurt replies, standing up suddenly, viciousness lacing his voice, “You need to _stop,_ Blaine.”

“I don’t need a lecture from you,” Blaine spits, “I barely even know you.”

And Blaine knows, as he sees the flicker of hurt cross Kurt’s face, that he said the wrong thing. He watches as Kurt’s eyes harden after blinking away the hurt. “Why do you _do_ this? Why do you need to be so involved in fights and getting into trouble? Are you rebelling? Is that it? Or was it Sebastian, huh?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Blaine says venomously, “Don’t bring him into this.”

“Well I’m right, aren’t I?” Kurt replies. “It’s always about Sebastian - don’t you see how much he influenced you?”

“You think I don’t know that?” Blaine spits, “You think I don’t know how _nasty_ he could be to people? I saw it, Kurt. I watched everything happen right in front of my eyes. I saw the way that he spiralled and got into something so messy and _wrong_ and I didn’t even try to stop him.”

Blaine slouches, his shoulders hunching in on himself and Kurt watches the way they shake.

He’s never seen Blaine look so vulnerable.

“I - He told me to run. He made me promise, made me promise that I would run and not come back,” Blaine says, his voice rough and shaking as he sits down on his bed, “Sometimes I wish I’d broken that promise.”

Kurt feels tears prickling at his eyes and he sits down next to Blaine, the bed dipping as he rests his weight on it. Slowly and gently, he rests his hand atop of one Blaine’s - he feels Blaine freeze for a split-second before breathing out and relaxing.

“He was good to me. He taught me to be strong and he was my best friend, Kurt, and I couldn’t even help him.” Blaine says, staring intensely at Kurt with hard, black eyes, “He _saved_ me.”

“I’m terrified,” Kurt says, his voice suddenly quiet; “I’m terrified you’re going to end up like ‘Bas. I can’t go through that _again._ I can’t lose someone else - not someone else who means so much to me.” Kurt’s silent for a moment before he continues, tears forming in his eyes, “He saved me, too.”

 

 

**then.**

“You have to stop this, Blaine.”

Blaine rolls his eyes; “Yeah, yeah.”

His parents stand together, united, and Blaine almost cringes. “We’re serious.”

“Okay,” Blaine says, holding his hands up in mock surrender, a smirk on his lips; “I’ll stop doing whatever it is you want me to stop.”

His mom sighs and shakes her head and it’s then that Blaine notices the glisten of tears in her eyes before she turns away.

“If you don’t stop,” his dad starts, “If you don’t stop all this nonsense, the drinking, the smoking and missing curfew, we’re going to send you to military school.”

Blaine feels his eyes grow wide in shock before growing hard and ice cold. “You can’t do that.”

His dad shrugs; “We can, Blaine, and we will.”

 

 

**now.**

The moment Kurt opens the door, Blaine is all breathless with wide eyes; loose fists that could fire at any moment and he breathes out; “Run away with me.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“What?” Kurt says, voice shaky as his takes in Blaine’s rugged appearance.

“Run away with me.”

“Blaine, I – ” Kurt begins, “I _can’t._ ”

“Sure, you can.” Blaine says, as if there’s nothing else to think about; “It’s pretty easy, actually.”

Kurt’s eyes grow harsh and Blaine almost flinches; “What about my dad? I can’t just leave him – he’s family!”

“Fuck family,” Blaine spits; “All they do is try and fix you anyway – as if there’s something wrong with you. They just end up trying to send you to fuckin’ military school to get rid of you. To straighten you out – _fix you._ ”

“Blaine…” Kurt stutters; “What are you talking about?”

But Blaine ignores him; “I don’t _need_ you anyway, Kurt,” he spits, voice cold, “I don’t fucking need anyone.”

And with that, with that fire in his eyes that burns through his body, he turns and begins to run. But not fast enough that he doesn’t catch what Kurt shouts at him.

“Maybe they’re doing this for a _reason,_ Blaine!”

“Just – ” Blaine says, over his shoulder, “Fuck off.”

 

+

 

It’s two days later when he comes back. He has the same clothes on his back but the fire in his eyes has dimmed slightly. He’s dirty and probably smells of sewers and back alleys, but he doesn’t care.

When Kurt answers the door, oh so similar to how it was two days ago, Blaine feels the tears prickle at his eyes and his shoulders slump.

Between loud, heart-wrenching sobs, he manages to choke out his feelings – finally, for the first time in forever; he feels a weight lift from his shoulders.

“I – ” He says, “I’m going to go – I’m gonna go to that god damn school because – it’ll keep me safe, right? It’ll keep me from going off the dark end. It’ll keep me from turning out like _him_ or _them._ ” He breathes in deeply, before straightening his shoulders and that fire is back, but more like a spark this time and Kurt finds himself smiling through his own tears; “I need to do this – for me.”

And, maybe, when they both go back to Blaine’s parents, his mom has eyes filled with worry and sorrow and when he tells them he’ll go, his dad lets out a barking sob and cries.

They don’t ask what happened whilst he was gone and he doesn’t say.

 

 

 

It begins, once again, at a graveyard.

The sun is bright in the sky, shining down on those black curls, causing a bead of sweat to run down the side of his neck as he stares at the gravestone.

There’s tears in Blaine’s eyes because, despite everything that happened – he was Blaine’s best friend; the first person he came out to and the one who told him that its okay. And even though Sebastian is the one who got Blaine into that scene and could be nasty and mean, he never was to Blaine. He _protected_ him.

Blaine thinks back to a year ago and how he wondered what he was going to do without him because he never thought he’d ever have to get through it without Sebastian.

But he made it, and he’s here.

Living, breathing and coping.

And all of a sudden, there’s a hand in his and Blaine smiles across at the brunette boy standing next to him.

Looking into those sparkling blue eyes, Blaine feels his heartbeat stop and his smile grow wider before he grabs Kurt by the waist, pulling him in for a kiss.

Opening his mouth under Blaine’s, Kurt moans quietly before pulling away shaking his head; “This is so, so wrong, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

Blaine just laughs, “Nah,” he says, smiling brightly, “He’d be proud, I reckon. Plus, he’s made out with so many people in front of me before, he deserves this.”

Kurt just laughs and lets Blaine pull him in for another kiss.

And maybe Sebastian’s gone but Blaine’s going to make it - he’s going to do it for the both of them.


End file.
